Unexpected
by Squeak the Mouse
Summary: When Sherlock is left to look after a son he never knew he had things could change for the better. Or the worse. How can the world's only consulting detective look after a baby, remain a full time detective and still make his mark on the world? Aided by his friends, Sherlock must stop thinking of babies as 'boring' so he can help his son
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I suppose the day started out normal. Well, as normal as living in the same building as the world's only consulting detective can be. Which isn't normal at all really.

A few things had changed since I'd first met Sherlock-Pain-In-The-Arse-Holmes. To begin with, I no longer lived in 221B and instead lived in 221C (after sorting out the damp and doing some major redecorating) with my lovely wife Molly. Sherlock had been... well upset doesn't really cover it really. He was distraught when I said I'd have to leave Baker Street and, to be honest, I was going to miss him (despite him being a complete arse most of the time). It was Molly who came up with the compromise of living in 221C so Sherlock could still call on us at anytime, but we'd still have our own place together. Sherlock was still our most frequent visitor (after Mrs Hudson) since we did our best to keep an eye on him so he'd stay out of trouble. He does have some moments when he doesn't eat or sleep properly so Sherlock often had dinner (And lunch. And breakfast) with either us or Mrs Hudson and we made sure he had enough sleep. Any other wife would have complained bitterly about this (or suspected that Sherlock and I were gay like every single girlfriend before Molly did), but Molly didn't. In fact, she rather enjoyed it. "It's just like we've adopted a big kid really," she'd laugh and she was right, I suppose. Molly didn't even mind if I went on a case with Sherlock as long as I told her what I was doing then make up the lost time later. I liked relaxing when it was just Molly and I; we'd often go for walks in Hyde Park or go people watching on the riverbank or go to the cinema if there was something really good on. All in all, Molly and I were very happy and had just celebrated out first anniversary.

This all started on a biting cold day in March with a bitter frost as Molly and I were having breakfast. We'd nearly finished when we heard the rapid footfall of the consulting detective getting nearer.

"Sherlock's got a case," I remarked.

"He might just want a chat John," Molly replied as she shooed Toby the cat off the sideboard.

"Since when does Sherlock ever just want a chat?"

Molly didn't have time to answer this as the door flew open to reveal Sherlock with one shoe, odd socks and his hair ruffled. When Molly and I had first moved in I'd tried to get Sherlock to knock on the door like everybody else, but I'd given up by this point.

"John! Lestrade's just text me to go to Scotland Yard!" he shouted gleefully. He looked like a five year old who'd just been given a new toy.

"Alright give us a minute, let me find my shoes," I replied and began to search under the sofa.

"Honestly Sherlock," Molly said as she sorted out his tangle of curls, "You need you hair cutting again."

"I'm too busy to get my hair cut."

I poked my head out from under the sofa. "Too busy? You haven't had a case all week."

"John this may be a life or death situation so time is of the essence," he snapped.

"Ok, I've got them," I said. "Now you go and find your other shoe."

Sherlock looked confused for a moment before looking down at his feet. Then he stomped upstairs without another word as Molly and I burst into laughter.

"Oh he is funny sometimes," Molly giggled.

"He is yeah. Well, I'd better go and find him then go and see what Lestrade wants. I'll see you in a bit." I gave her a quick kiss.

"Bye John. And don't get yourself kidnapped or beaten up this time," Molly called after me.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful."

I found Sherlock hailing a cab on the frosty pavement which we both clambered into.

"Scotland Yard please," Sherlock instructed the cabbie and we began to trundle through the busy streets.

"Any idea what the case is?" I asked.

"No idea," he replied. He paused for a moment then said, "Do you think I need my hair cut?"

I sighed. "Yes Sherlock, it looked like a birds nest."

"Well, why haven't I noticed this? I have been working on my experiments but even so, surely I would have noticed it."

"You haven't noticed because you're a prat."

"Charming."

XXX

We arrived at Scotland Yard to find a grim looking Lestrade pacing the reception area as he waited for us. Sherlock smiled. He always loved the cases where Lestrade looked this grim because they were usually the ones that tested his skills to the limit.

"What's happened Lestrade?"Sherlock asked.

Lestrade stopped pacing and even I could see that this case had shaken him. He was pale, sweaty and looked like he'd been dragged out of bed to conduct the investigation. "There's something I need to show you Sherlock," he whispered hoarsely. He indicated us to follow him up to his office. "I'm not sure if you're going to like this Sherlock."

"I'll manage, it can't be too difficult," was Sherlock's confident reply. Lestrade grimaced slightly which really wasn't good since he usually had a lot of faith in Sherlock's abilities. What was going on?

Lestrade opened the door to reveal that his office was actually very crowded. Anderson and Donovan were in there with, weirdly, a baby boy. The boy was about the size of a one year old, although he had such an intelligent face he appeared to be much older. He was very pale which contrasted with his raven black curls and dark green eyes to make him look effortlessly handsome. At that moment, the baby was sitting on Anderson lap, grizzling. (Although I wouldn't have been happy if I had to sit on Anderson's lap as a baby either).

Sherlock stared at the baby. The baby stared back.

"Lestrade, did you really bring me all the way to Scotland Yard to look at a baby," Sherlock moaned. "He's obviously too young to have committed a crime since under UK law the age of responsibility is ten and he is too young to give any evidence either. It's not even like there's any evidence of mistreatment because he seems to be fairly healthy and even if that were the case he should have been referred to social services."

Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan exchanged looks before Lestrade passed Sherlock a piece of paper. "This was pinned to his jacket," he explained.

Standing on tiptoe, I read this over Sherlock's shoulder.

_To be left until collected by Sherlock Holmes_

_Born on 12__th__ February 2012_

_I have called him Hamish_

_Irene_

"No that's impossible," I muttered. "She's dead. I mean...um... she's on a witness protection scheme in... um... America." Shit, now I'd done it.

"John, I knew that you lied to me about Irene Adler's circumstances, yet I have lied to you," Sherlock said quietly.

"What?"

"Irene Adler is neither dead nor in America. I heard that she was to be executed in Pakistan so I went to stop it. We parted company with the promise that we would never speak again. However, nearly two years ago she contacted me as she had run into problems in Portugal. I went to help and that's where... it happened."

"You mean... you and her..."

"Yes John, I was foolishly manipulated by her when she pointed out that I was still a virgin."

"So you had to sleep with her."

Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan were following the discussion back and forth like it was a tennis match whilst Hamish continued grizzling.

"She promised me that she couldn't get pregnant. SHE PROMISED!" Sherlock screeched. This startled Hamish so much that he burst into tears.

"There there Hamish," Donovan cooed. She took him off Anderson and cuddled him until he calmed down a bit. Although I've never particularly liked Donovan, she was making an effort to look after him for which I was extremely grateful as I needed to calm Sherlock down.

"Look Sherlock, we all make mistakes. Even extremely clever people like you are not perfect. What you did was stupid and you were lied to, but that's not what's important now. What we need to do is figure out a way in which Hamish can have a normal and stable life in Baker Street."

Sherlock glared at me. "You're not seriously considering brining _that_ back to Baker Street with us," he growled.

"To begin with, "_that" _is Hamish, your son, so start calling him by his name! Also, yes, we are bringing him back to Baker Street because he is your son and it wouldn't be fair to put him into care just because you don't feel like being a parent!" I shouted. Everyone stared at me dumbstruck. Even Hamish had stopped crying. "I'm sorry," I added, "It's just that you can't even think of abandoning your own son. He is definitely yours Sherlock, just look at his hair, his face, even his eyes. Hamish looks just like you; in fact he even is you in a way. He's your own flesh and blood so you have a duty to look after him."

Sherlock began pacing up and down the office as everyone watched him intensely. Either Sherlock was going to walk out on Hamish, leave Baker Street and go back into the life he had before of being an addict simply to get away from this life; or he was going to embrace being a father. The decision lay with him and if I wasn't sure which one he was going to pick which made my heart pound. One thing I was certain of though, if Sherlock left then Molly and I would look after Hamish.

He finally turned to face me. "You're right John; it isn't fair for him to go into care. However, I can't raise him on my own. If Hamish comes back to Baker Street then you, Molly and Mrs Hudson will have to help me otherwise I'll mess it up," he whispered. Anderson's jaw actually dropped at this point but everyone chose to ignore it.

"Of course we'll help you look after Hamish. We can start by getting him the things he needs. First things first, has he got a birth certificate or a passport or anything like that?" I asked Lestrade.

"We've run some checks and it turns out his birth hasn't been registered at all which means that that will have to be done immediately," Lestrade answered. I noted that he looked less pale and stressed now that he realised that Sherlock was going to take Hamish with him.

"Ok, we'll do that today. Does he have any clothes with him?" was my next question.

"He was dropped off here with this little bag," Lestrade replied, picking up a beautiful bag decorated with trains. Inside were many outfits which looked a lot fancier than the average baby clothes so it was obvious that he was looked after by Irene.

"Why did she abandon him if she loves him this much?" Sherlock asked as he sifted through the clothes.

"I don't know," I answered.

"She might be in trouble. He might only be here until its safe enough to take him back," Sherlock mused.

Lestrade put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Sherlock, I doubt it very much that Irene has put him here on a temporary basis. Besides, she'll be seen as an unfit mother since she abandoned him so she'll never get him back."

"And even if Irene is in trouble it isn't anything to do with us, she'll have other contacts to get her out of it. All we need to focus on is looking after Hamish," I explained.

He nodded and went forward to have a look at Hamish. "Um... hello," he said. Hamish stared at him.

"Come here Sherlock I'll help you," I said as I crouched down to Hamish's level. "Hello Hamish."

"'ello" he whispered.

"Now, I know this is a bit scary for you, but you'll be Ok. Trust me."

"Want Mummy," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

"I know Hamish, but Mummy isn't here. This is your Daddy though," I explained. I pulled Sherlock down so he was now at eye level with Hamish. "He'll look after you."

"Who you?" he asked timidly pointing at me.

"He's you Uncle John," Sherlock said. "He'll help look after you too." Hamish looked slightly bewildered by all this.

"Why don't we take you home and have breakfast Hamish?" I asked.

He thought for a minute before whispering, "Ok."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

We bundled Hamish up in his little jacket, thanked Lestrade and the others and headed out of Scotland Yard. The pair of us were regulars at the Yard so we got quite a few funny looks from everyone when they saw me carrying Hamish and Sherlock carrying a bag with trains on. We were soon outside though and able to hail a cab.

"Right Sherlock, you can hold Hamish now," I ordered once we were in the cab.

"I don't know how," he whispered back. I had to smile a little bit at that; it's amazing how Sherlock doesn't know basic things. Maybe he once knew and deleted them.

"He's not a very little baby Sherlock, he's practically a toddler. Just sit him on your lap and he'll wriggle into place," I explained. I passed Hamish over to him and sure enough Hamish made himself comfortable.

"Why do I have to hold him?"

I sighed. "Sherlock, you're his dad and therefore one of the most important people in his life. You'll have to bond with him otherwise the following few decades will be very awkward for both of you."

"Decades!"

"Yes Sherlock, decades. Even when Hamish is an adult you'll never stop looking out for him so you have to bond with him now. The first few years of a child's life are crucial."

The cab was silent for a while until we drove past one of those red London buses and Hamish's face lit up. "Bus! Bus!" he giggled, waving his little hands in excitement. He looked up at Sherlock expectantly whilst Sherlock simply looked confused.

"Yes, it's a bus Hamish," he said. Hamish smiled again then settled back down to look at the traffic.

"Why did he say that John? Of course it's a bus," Sherlock asked me.

"Sherlock you must remember that he's about thirteen months old so things that are obvious to you won't be obvious to him at all. Although I have noticed that Hamish is quite like you in at least one way."

"How?"

"He likes to be right," I laughed.

XXX

Once we arrived back at Baker Street I insisted that Sherlock was to be the one who carried him into the house and up to 221B whilst I went to get Molly. She was busy vacuuming the living room and was surprised to find me back so soon. I briefly explained to her what had happened then asked her if she wanted to come and help Hamish settle in.

"What?" was the first thing she said.

"I know, this is perhaps the maddest thing to happen since I've known him but we've got to help. They'll probably be a point when understands how to look after Hamish so we'll help him along so he knows what to do."

"Alright, I'll come." She quickly shoved Toby off the sofa then headed upstairs with me.

Mrs Hudson was already there preparing some toast in the kitchen as Sherlock sat stiffly with Hamish on his lap. Molly sat next to Sherlock then began cooing over Hamish. I wandered into the kitchen.

"Oh John, I don't know what to think," Mrs Hudson whispered to me. "I mean, it's lovely that he has a family of his own besides Mycroft, but I'm not sure if it's safe to leave Hamish here. Sherlock has so many chemicals in his kitchen, leaves all his things all over the place and very rarely cooks for himself. What are we going to do?"

"Look we'll figure something out. You could maybe teach him basic cooking and housekeeping so he can at least keep the flat in some sort of order," I suggested.

"Would he want to be taught?"

"He has a kid now so he'll have to learn. And if he doesn't want to then I'll make him," I reassured her. "Hamish is staying with his dad since he's the only family he's got now besides Mycroft and I don't think he'll want to get involved."

Mrs Hudson seemed satisfied with than answer so I followed her into the living room where she gave Hamish the plate of toast soldiers.

"What's the magic word?" she asked.

"Thank," Hamish replied then tucked into his toast.

"It's important to teach him manners Sherlock, although Irene seems to have done well," Mrs Hudson explained. "Remember to get him to say 'please', 'thank you' and 'excuse me' so he grows up to be polite."

"I'll try to," Sherlock said. He was watching Hamish closely.

"And John has suggested that I give you some housekeeping and cooking lessons so 221B doesn't descend into chaos," she continued.

"What?"

"It won't be anything too difficult Sherlock, just the basics to begin with. You have to give him regular mealtimes and keep everything in order since toddlers are naturally curious. We don't want Hamish eating chemicals or anything."

"Why don't you get a mini fridge for all your experiments so they stay separate from the actual food?" Molly suggested.

"That's a good idea actually. We can get it when we go shopping today," I said. Sherlock looked dismayed as soon as he heard the word 'shopping'. He loathes it with a passion. "Yes Sherlock we are going shopping after we register Hamish's birth at the registry office," I insisted.

"Whilst you're gone I could clean up the kitchen and keep an eye on Hamish," Mrs Hudson offered.

"And I'll nip out to the supermarket to get you some food," Molly also offered.

"Oh...um... thank you," Sherlock finally said. Hamish had slid off Sherlock's lap by this point and began toddling around the room. It was obvious that he was at that awkward in-between stage of crawling and walking as he still needed to grab onto things to steady himself.

"Come on Hamish, I'll find you some colouring to do," Mrs Hudson cooed.

"We'll go then. Come on Sherlock, kiss Hamish goodbye first," I said.

"Why do I have to kiss him goodbye?" Sherlock asked, clearly baffled by this idea.

"Because that's what people do to young children," I explained. I decided to show him how to do it so I gave Hamish a kiss on the forehead and said, "Bye bye Hamish."

"Bye bye," he answered. Molly also kissed him goodbye, then it was Sherlock's turn. He actually did OK considering he was still a bit confused, but Hamish smiled at him so it all went alright.

XXX

"Now Sherlock, what are you going to call Hamish?" I asked as we waited in the registry office. Sherlock gave me his classic are-you-stupid look.

"Well, Hamish of course."

"What I meant was, is he going to be a Holmes or an Adler? And is he going to have a middle name?"

Sherlock thought about this before saying quietly, "He'll be a Holmes because I don't want to have to explain to him about Irene until he's older."

"That's very wise of you Sherlock and I think you've made the right decision there. So what about his middle name? He doesn't have to have one, but a lot of people do," I said.

Again, Sherlock thought long and hard about this. "How do you usually choose a middle name?" he asked.

"Well, you usually choose somebody who you admire or is going to play an important part in the child's life. Mine's Hamish after an uncle. Do you have a middle name?"

"Yes, Cerimon."

"What!" I burst into laughter whilst Sherlock looked deeply chagrined.

"It's not that funny John."

"What on earth made your parents call you Sherlock Cerimon Holmes," I giggled.

"Sherlock is a slight change to my mother's maiden name Sherloke and Cerimon is a Lord from the Shakespeare play, Pericles, Prince of Tyre as my parents were great admirers of Shakespeare plays," he explained.

"Ok point taken," I said. I wasn't going to ask this next question but curiosity got the better of me.

"What's Mycroft's full name?" I asked.

To my surprise a smile spread across Sherlock's face. "His full name is Mycroft Oberon Holmes. Mycroft after our father's employer at the time and Oberon after the king of the fairies in A Midsummer Night's Dream." We both screeched with laughter at this.

"Oh my God! Your parents named him after the king of the fairies!" I was actually crying at this point which was making other people in the waiting room look at us as if we'd gone mad. Once we'd finally calmed down Sherlock said, "His middle name is not going to be Cerimon or Oberon."

"I can see why. So is there anyone who has played an important part in your life?" I asked.

"Lestrade has so I could call him Greg or Gregory," Sherlock said. "I mean, he's already called Hamish after you so you've got the best spot. Lestrade definitely deserves to have a mention though."

"Hamish Gregory Holmes has a nice ring to it," I said.

"I'll register him as that then."

XXX

A few hours later, we traipsed back into Baker Street with boxes and carrier bags stuffed to the brim with everything a one year old would need including a flat-pack toddler sized bed. There were also age appropriate toys (Sherlock had wanted to buy him a chemistry set but I said no) and picture books, plastic plates and beakers, nappies and a little training seat for the loo so he could toilet train Hamish and a million other little things. We'd also brought the mini fridge. During our shopping trip, 221B had been transformed; it was cleaner than I'd ever seen it and there was food in the fridge for once. Hamish was watching the TV which had been put onto the kids' channel.

"What on earth is that?" Sherlock asked, pointing at the screen.

"It's a programme called Peppa Pig which is really popular at the minute," Molly explained. "He's really enjoying it." Sherlock sat down next to Hamish and began to watch it with him. Hamish immediately crawled onto Sherlock's lap so Sherlock let him stay there which was a bit surprising. I mean, that's what parents do but Sherlock isn't exactly your average parent.

Molly and I took the bed upstairs to my old room and began to assemble it which was quite a challenge since the instructions were in bloody Chinese or something and there were no pictures, yet we somehow managed. We also put Hamish's clothes in the wardrobe and chest of drawers I'd left behind when I'd moved in with Molly.

"This could do with a makeover," Molly said. "It's a bit bland and boring, all cream and white. We could really jazz it up a bit with a bit of paint or some really cute teddy bear wallpaper I saw while I was out shopping."

"We'll wait a while first Molly, simply because Sherlock is already way over his head so we'll give him time to adjust before we trust him with paint."

Back downstairs, Hamish was playing with a new toy whilst Mrs Hudson was trying to explain to Sherlock how to cook pasta when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Molly said. She disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later with Mycroft.

"Well, this is a shock," Mycroft said.

"Hello Mycroft," Sherlock greeted him, a little coldly perhaps.

"I never knew you wanted children," Mycroft continued.

"He was an accident," Sherlock muttered.

"Still, I'm surprised you've kept him."

"I had to, he's my son."

Mycroft smirked at that. "That's a little sentimental for you Sherlock."

Sherlock, I'm sure, was going to blow his top so I quickly introduced Hamish.

"Mycroft, this is your nephew Hamish Gregory Holmes. He's just over a year old and yes, he's staying here at Baker Street. Everyone's going to help look after him." Hamish stared at yet another new face intently before deciding that the toy was more interesting.

"He certainly has your manners," Mycroft muttered.

"It could be worse, he could have your eating habits," Sherlock retorted.

"Boys, stop it!" Mrs Hudson cried. "We should be celebrating that fact that we have a new arrival in Baker Street rather than arguing over him." With that, she scooped Hamish up and thrust him at Mycroft so he had no choice but to hold him. The two stared at each other for a moment, and then Hamish began poking Mycroft's cuff links. Mycroft looked more lost than Sherlock had done when he first held Hamish.

"Come on Mycroft, he's just being a kid," I said.

"Yes well, Sherlock and I were never really children," Mycroft replied.

"Well, Hamish will be," Sherlock said.

"Mycwoft," Hamish said.

"Yes Hamish, that's your uncle Mycroft."

Mycroft handed Hamish back to Sherlock before gabbling quickly, "Well I'll go I just came to check." He was just about to leave before I decided to embarrass him even more.

"Oh Mycroft, Oberon is my favourite character in a Midsummer Night's Dream," I smiled sweetly.

Mycroft turned as red as a London bus. "I am pleased, "he muttered. Then he left.


End file.
